[He wondered how long he could keep him going along if he couldn't get it to work. Four months? Six? A year? Would Wash be over the worst of it by then and actually keep living? Could he find a new reason?

He was stubborn. He was a fucking cockroach. But even cockroaches got stomped on eventually. ]

I think I can convince Simmons, partly because of science, mostly because he misses Grif. You...you just sit tight, okay? And--

[He flickered back to the armor, sitting on the discarded shoulder, not disturbing the dust.] --check in on Carolina, okay? She doesn't show it, but she's having a rough time, too. You guys could probably use each other.